


“I think the pigeon likes you.”

by wintervioleteye (hawkguyed)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkguyed/pseuds/wintervioleteye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Birds love Coulson. Birds also love getting Coulson's attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	“I think the pigeon likes you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is somewhat of a sequel to ["There's a pelican beside you. Sir."](http://archiveofourown.org/works/285271) in a sense that I wrote on a whim and yeah.

Clint is bored at work. Bored being a very broad term, considering that he's capable of waiting hours and hours of end. So he takes to scaring the new guys, the trainees who have yet to find their footing in SHIELD, the same bunch who had gotten covered in paint last training session. Half of them are terrified of him, the other half are still learning to avoid him, and Clint simply loves to terrify them at the most inopportune moments.

Today isn't much different, being dragged out of headquarters because Clint is busy being a menace to the trainee agents – Phil's words, not his – for a lunch break all the way at a little sandwich kiosk down near Central Park.

“You're scaring the new trainees,” Coulson mentions as he bites into his lunch, sitting on a park bench.

Clint shrugs, then sprawls elegantly beside his boyfriend, unwrapping his own sandwich. He'd come in to work casual today, zip-up sleeved shirt, cargo pants and boots and looking nothing like a SHIELD agent at all.

“Fury's more scary than I am.”

“That is not the point, agent Barton.”

It's only then that Clint notices the pigeon that flutters down to land right in front of Coulson, eyeing the sandwich the older agent has.

He reaches out with a booted foot, waving it in the general direction of the bird, and both Coulson and the bird stare at him, completely unruffled. Like identical twins, and Clint snickers into his sandwich.

“I think the pigeon likes you.”

Coulson doesn't even roll his eyes at that.

Maybe Coulson really does attract birds. Like that pelican. And these pigeons. He'll have to test that theory out one day, with a bunch of flamingos or something.

So Clint watches, watches another pigeon join the first, and another, and another. He wonders if they're going to start tugging on Phil's pant-leg and jacket in an effort to get him to give up a bit of his sandwich, and grins as he bites into his lunch.

The handful of milling pigeons slowly grows into a sizeable flock, mostly concentrated on Coulson's side of the bench, and the agent is almost done with his food when one of the bolder ones wanders forward and actually pecks at Phil's leg, as if demanding food from the SHIELD agent.

Clint can't help the laughter that bubbles up, remembering all too clearly a similar situation with a bigger and far more offended pelican which had failed to gain Coulson's attention.

Beside him, Coulson balls up his sandwich wrapper and gives the offending pigeon a warning look, the same kind that Clint is intimately familiar with when he doesn't turn in his paperwork on time.

“You're not shooting them.”

The pigeon returns the glare with an indignant look, waddles closer and pecks at Coulson's leg again.

This time, a wad of paper – the sandwich wrapping, Clint's mind supplies helpfully – flicks out and hits the pigeon square in the face. It gives an equally indignant squawk, then scuttles back and flaps off. The rest of the flock follow, now a little more wary of the dangerous man who doesn't really look dangerous sitting there, and his more deadly looking partner who seems content to laugh at their misery.

Clint dissolves into a fit of laughter that's only broken by him choking on the remainder of his sandwich.

Beside him, Coulson merely gives him an exasperated look, and a solid thump on the back, before picking up the discarded wrapper and depositing it into the nearest dustbin.


End file.
